


River Flows In You

by yetanotherauthor



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 19:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17514470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yetanotherauthor/pseuds/yetanotherauthor
Summary: When they first meet Hashirama is too young to remember the fantastical beast that he will someday devote his entire life to.





	River Flows In You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unquiet_Words](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unquiet_Words/gifts).



> Commission for Unquiet_Words. 
> 
> Title from [River Flows In You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7maJOI3QMu0) by Yiruma.
> 
> **Edit:** I forgot to add it before but [this](https://ninchanese.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/3/2016/03/9bd58aacd11d4d590376dbf4bc2b54bd.jpg) is what I imagined Tobirama looks like in his other form.

Hashirama was little more than a babe the first time they met, too young to remember but old enough to steal the heart of the fledgling beast that watched with careful eyes. Tottering through the shallows and splashing in the Naka River, Hashirama squealed with delight when he caught sight of something glittering just beneath the surface of bubbling water, wading forward with one chubby hand reaching out in interest. He cried out with loss when his mother caught him around the middle before he could close his fingers around his shiny discovery.

They left that day without ever knowing what had watched them from the shallow waters but the river never forgot. It was not in his nature.

-

When he was three years old Hashirama ran away from home. Not because he was a bad child or because his situation was in anyway unhappy but simply because he was a terribly curious child with a knack for forgetting the world around him in favor of chasing whatever new thing had caught his eye. Today it was a pretty butterfly that flitted between the trees and led him on a merry chase until he was too deep in the forest to see his home.

Rather than scream with panic as other children his age might have, Hashirama grinned and looked around to decide where he wanted to explore next. Why panic when there were so many interesting things to discover around him?

He ended up at the river, although he could not have said how, and his mind was empty but for the intention to have a nice swim in the cool water. Surely such a big river had to be more fun than the calm pond in the backyard of his home. Hashirama stripped his clothes like his mother would have told him to, folding one or two items like a good boy, then he laughed freely as he threw himself in to the current – an action he immediately regretted. As he had noticed, these waters were not calm.

The current took him immediately. Within moments he had been swept away, his small limbs struggling and his heart pounding in his throat. The panic he had scoffed at earlier came to him now as he realized he couldn’t find the surface, couldn’t figure out which direction was up with the way his body tumbled end over end. His eyes pricked with tears he barely noticed, washed away as they were by the rushing water all around him. If he were but a few years older he would have known how to handle the adrenaline pumping through his veins, would have been able to calm himself and think the situation though, but at that moment Hashirama was nothing but a scared little boy who wanted his mother to come rescue him.

Instead it was the river that saved him. The air in his lungs had run out and panic was close to forcing his body to take a deep breath that would have drowned him when suddenly his watery vision was filled with glittering blue, a different shade that coalesced under his tumbling body and _lifted_.

Hashirama broke the surface gasping for air and clinging to the solid surface that had appeared beneath him. For several minutes his eyes stayed shut and he only thought to question what had happened when something soft and wet interrupted his childish crying. Opening his eyes he saw that the wetness on his face was a long white whisker curiously brushing away his tears. Slowly he lifted his gaze and took in the creature that whisker belonged to and all thoughts of drowning were pushed violently aside.

A dragon. He had been rescued by a dragon.

It wasn’t a very big dragon; any smaller and he wouldn’t have fit on its back. Clearly it was still young like him but its sinuous body was already long enough that, stretched out, it would have been twice as long as Hashirama was tall. Each scale shone like glittering sapphires and the furry tufts of mane running in a line down its back were an even deeper shade of blue. Tiny white stubs that someday might grow in to fearsome horns rested on the crest of its head, just above the delicate ears tilted forward to focus attention on the little human it had picked up.

Ruby red eyes the size of his fists blinked curiously at him and Hashirama took a deep breath in.

Then he screamed, long and loud and terrified. What else could a creature as small as him do when faced with a beast straight out of the fairytales his mother read to put him to sleep at night?

He screamed louder when the dragon gave vent to a high pitched roar in response to the noise, body convulsing and pitching him off to land in the grass beside the river. After rolling to a stop he lifted his head to watch that sinuous body disappear under the water again.

Shocked in to silence once more, Hashirama lay utterly still in the tall grass until one of his cousins burst from the trees with his clothing in hand, sweeping him up in to her arms with a cry of relief. The lecture he got on being safe and not wandering off was made less effective by the way she couldn’t seem to stop petting his hair and holding him close. As bad as he felt for causing such a fuss he simply couldn’t make himself pay much attention to her, not when such a wild adventure had just come to a close.

After his cousin wrangled him back in to his clothing she set him on her hip – father was going to yell, he insisted Hashirama was too old for that now – and carted him away towards home. Over her shoulder as they disappeared in to the trees Hashirama thought he spotted the slightest glimmer of deep blue in the middle of the river and a flash of red sadly watching him go.

-

Training to be a shinobi was hard work. Hashirama went to bed most days exhausted and woke up in the mornings sore, dragging himself back to the sparring grounds only because his father said he must. War was a silly thing that his four year old brain couldn’t fully wrap itself around quite yet but Butsuma told him it was simply the way of things.

Hashirama didn’t really put much thought in to it. War was a distant concept still, something he trained for and wouldn’t see for probably another year or so. For now the thing that occupied his mind the most was the mystery of the river dragon. After that little escapade off on his own a year ago he had been kept under much stricter watch, kept within the compound under the careful eyes of at least one adult at all times, and it had been hard to find a few moments to himself when he could slip away again.

Usually the moments he found were in the evenings when he pretended to go to bed early and then slipped out the window. He justified his guilt away by telling himself he was only perfecting the shinobi skills his father wanted so badly for him to learn. Then he used his temporary freedom to fly down to the Naka River and run along the banks in search of a certain shade of blue.

So far his efforts had turned up nothing. In the year since he had fallen in to the waters and been rescued by a fantastic mythical creature he had only managed to come looking for another sighting a handful of times. Each time saw him returning home empty handed but no less hopeful. He knew what he had seen. Just because he had scared the poor creature away before did not mean he couldn’t find it again. All he had to do was keep looking, surely. Persistence was key.

This night was no different than any of the other nights he had snuck out – except for tonight he had remembered to bring a snack for when he got hungry at midnight and inevitably wandered home before he had to. On his back he wore a small travel pack that his cousin had been teaching him how to properly stock for a mission. It was supposed to carry weapon scrolls and bedding, food stores for several days more than the mission called for in case of complications, maybe something special if the mission called for it. Tonight he carried only a few of the sushi left over from dinner wrapped up tight to keep them as fresh as possible and trusting the cool air would stop them from spoiling.

Light fog hung over the flowing water when he got there and Hashirama paused for a minute to appreciate the sight. He loved the daytime but night had its own inexplicable beauty that he couldn’t deny, a quiet unassuming charm like the mysterious pause before something amazing happened.

Or maybe that was just his imagination telling him, as it always did, that this was the night he would find a dragon.

Having explored several times already, he ran along the banks in all the places he thought might be big enough to hold a dragon. Only when they all turned up empty did he follow the mental map in his head to where the river was at its most shallow and splash out in to the water himself, letting it lap around his ankles like an icy kiss, then shifted his backpack around until it was hanging from his front and dug through it for his packet of sushi.

Completely absorbed in his snack, he failed to notice the shifting of the water around his feet. He had already devoured two pieces of sushi and was lifting a third when he opened his eyes from a satisfied sigh to find two muted circles of ruby watching him from just under the river’s surface. For a moment he stood completely still. After all of his searching it was hard to choose just one reaction to finally discovering that which he had been trying to find all this time. Eventually he settled on a beaming smile.

“You’re real!” he cried. “Hi dragon!”

From under the surface those eyes blinked, unmoving, neither running away nor coming closer. He did notice that they were fixated on the morsel in his fingers. With an encouraging smile Hashirama held out his bit of sushi.

“Want this? You can have it! I have more too!”

He held his breath as two thick white nubs broke the surface of the water, slowly followed by the scaled head and furry mane of a young water dragon. Red eyes blinked slowly at him, movements cautious, but it did lean forward and carefully snag the bite from his outstretched palm. Then Hashirama shrieked with joy as the long body coiled up out of the water and scampered across the opposite bank to curl up and devour its treat.

Wanting to make up for how poorly he had reacted last time, Hashirama spent the rest of his night standing in the shallows tossing bits of food to the dragon across the way, blabbering away the whole time in a soothing tone about anything that came to mind. He told the beast he’d been looking to apologize for a long time, that he thought it was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. When it paused and turned to look at him he nearly vibrated out of the river with joy trying to express to this creature that this was the most fantastic thing that ever happened to him.

“I’ll keep you secret,” he promised when he realized he needed to get home soon. “And I’ll come find you again. Please don’t forget me!”

Crawling in to bed that night, his ankles more damp from dew now than from river water, Hashirama rolled himself in to the blankets and buried his face in a pillow to muffle the scream he couldn’t contain, a wordless venting of the pure excitement running through him. It wasn’t until he was already half in a dream that he realized he’d never asked if the beast had a name.

-

As it turned out, the dragon did not have a name. It seemed to understand what he was saying though it was not able to speak itself – or if it could then it hadn’t spoken to him yet. Mostly it growled and trilled and one time it released a long mournful sound when Hashirama had to leave, a piteous cry that very nearly brought him to tears. When he rushed back and threw himself across the beast’s snout he’d been sniffling and unsure if he was trying to convince himself or the dragon that he _really_ had to go.

“If you don’t have a name then I’ll give you one! You can be…you can be Tobirama! It can have the same kanji as mine so that makes you mine too! See, I’ll come back!”

Whether it was the name or the promise that calmed his new friend he didn’t know. Hashirama slipped away that night with his cheek stinging from being licked by a rough tongue and his heart warm inside his chest from such an obvious display of affection from such a reticent creature.

-

Tobirama was a boy dragon. Hashirama had mentally assigned no gender to his friend despite giving him a boy’s name and he learned no different until he was ten years old. Apparently ten years was old enough for a dragon to experience their first shift in to human form.

Also, in other news, dragons were capable of shifting in to human form.

Hashirama discovered this by greeting his friend, tired and sore on his way home from a particularly taxing mission, only to sway and fall over sideways, chakra far more depleted than he had originally estimated. Cool scales caught him and he smiled even as he felt his body go limp over his friend’s fluffy crest. When he was settled on to the snowy ground he gave a weak protest but Tobirama trilled sadly until Hashirama quieted and then backed away until his long body was out in the open ground between river and forest.

Then he began to glow very softly and Hashirama watched with awe as his body shifted until dragon became boy, small and white and quite naked. Rather than shiver in the winter air he wobbled over on unsteady legs, looking for all the world like a foal standing up for the first time, slowly making his way back to where Hashirama lay with his exhausted muscles and his jaw wide open. Tobirama blinked at him with the same pretty red eyes as he’d had before. He looked down at Hashirama’s lips and seemed to study them for a moment before he parted his own and made several shapes.

“Haaah,” was the first sound Hashirama heard him make. His jaw closed, a frown pinching his brows together before he tried again. “Haaah. Ee. Maa. Haa-ee-ma. Hah-ee-ah-maa.” A noise of confusion escaped him and his lips turned down sadly, shoulders drooped, as he shook his head and reached for the pack that had fallen on the ground beside them. Clumsy fingers pulled at the straps while he gave off pitiful sounds of distress.

“Shh,” Hashirama tried to sooth him. “Tobirama? You – wow. Shh, it’s okay. I have…no idea what’s happening right now. You’re a _boy_!” He jerked when a pale finger pressed at his lips and Tobirama grunted encouragingly. “What?”

It took a couple of minutes before he realized that Tobirama had seemed to like the shushing noise he’d made. After repeating it a few times he watched the dragon-turned-boy purse his lips and attempt to imitate it. Then he put it in with the other sounds he’d been making, his hands fluttering over Hashirama’s form in the same way he would normally sniff around to find where he was injured.

“Hah. Shhh. Shh. Hah-shh-ee-ah-maa. Hashi’ama. Hashi’ama!”

“You’re saying my name,” Hashirama breathed. Tears gathered in his eyes and he wished he wasn’t so exhausted. Now seemed like a great time to throw his arms around his secret friend; to not be able to do so was a small but sharp hurt under his breast bone.

Tobirama’s fingers grew more insistent, his voice more distressed as he continued to repeat the only word he knew over and over until finally Hashirama found the energy to move his arm and catch one of those hands in his own. The pale skin was cool as a summer river but underneath he was warm. He was, oddly enough, the perfect temperature to be cuddled up to in any kind of weather. It took some effort for Hashirama to push that thought aside and smile up at the small form hovering over him. By looks alone in this shape Tobirama seemed younger than him yet something in his heart told him that wasn’t true.

“I’m not hurt,” he said. “Just tired. I need rest, that’s all.”

“Hah.” With just one syllable Tobirama managed to convey the heavy relief that comes with knowing someone precious is going to be okay, eyes sliding closed to do nothing but breathe until he had himself back under control.

At first when he tried to curl himself around Hashirama’s body he couldn’t seem to understand why he wasn’t able to encompass all of him, confused and irritated every time he spotted another bit of tan flesh left exposed to the cold air. Eventually Hashirama giggled and softly pointed out that his body was much smaller now and tried to tell him that it was okay like this too. The warmth under his cool skin was more than enough to keep him comfortable if they were going to lay here like this.

That wasn’t good enough for Tobirama, apparently. He looked like a pouty child as he struggled to his feet and wobbled back over to open ground with his pale bottom on display for Hashirama to steal another giggle. When he began to glow this time it was twice as impressive watching his body grow several times the size until the light faded and the smooth blue scales of a river dragon were gliding across the snow to coil themselves around Hashirama, snout pressed firmly against his sternum to blow warm breath against him and whiskers gently wrapping around his wrists in a possessive manner.

Hashirama knew he would arrive home very late. He knew that his parents would worry and that he should have felt at least a little bad for that. But it was hard to think of anything else when he felt so safe here in Tobirama’s embrace, his body reaching for sleep even as he hands reached to bury themselves in his best friend’s fur, content and happy and willing to forget the world outside for just a few hours.

-

It amazed him often how fast Tobirama learned. He thought about asking sometimes if all dragons were as smart as him but his friend had never mentioned meeting any other dragons. Just thinking about being so alone, being the only one of anything with no family or friends around to help him grow, it gave Hashirama sad dreams that always drove him out the bedroom window and running through the forests just for one more hug, to tell the dragon boy one more time that he had someone to _belong_ to.

Words came easily to Tobirama once he figured out how to make the sounds. Being born with a full vocabulary in his head certainly helped, although it didn’t free him from the awkward phase of grunting in frustration when he knew what a word _should_ sound like but couldn’t figure out how to make the syllables for it with his mouth.

Once he did get his brain and his mouth on the same page it quickly became clear to Hashirama that his friend had a mighty brain in his head. He didn’t always take human form but when he did they spent hours talking about anything and everything under the sun and Tobirama quickly proved that he knew far more of the world than just his river or the lands it ran through. How he knew those things was something Hashirama never asked for fear of what the answer might be. He didn’t want to think about a day in which Tobirama might not be there when he came running.

Fifteen years old wasn’t very much by civilian standards but Hashirama had long been considered an adult in his own world when he reached the final stage in his growth, the dreaded era of rampant hormones. According to his cousin Touka he was a bit of a late bloomer compared to the rest of their clan. Everyone else in his age bracket had been hiding behind bushes and sneaking around after curfew to steal kisses for years by the time it finally occurred to Hashirama to wonder what the fuss was all about. For him, however, his wondering had nothing to do with the girl or boys around him. He was much more interested in the times when Tobirama traded his scales for white skin and sure hands.

Teaching his friend how to spar with taijutsu was fun but it became a special brand of torture once the hormones finally hit him like a tsunami wave and Hashirama grew a little too interested in every flex of the other boy’s muscles, every drop of sweat that rolled down his temples while they grappled skin against skin. Being impressed with how fast he was only made things worse.

Hashirama had once heard his uncle say that the most dangerous thing a shinobi could do was admire another shinobi. Only now did he understand why. Tobirama wasn’t even a shinobi, had been raised with none of their lifestyle or training, but he mastered everything he was taught with an ease that Hashirama couldn’t help but find attractive.

Even worse, he was _pretty_. His dragon shape continued to grow bigger and bigger with each passing day and his human form seemed determined to keep up. No matter how tall Hashirama grew Tobirama always seemed a mere inch or two behind. Both of them shot up like weeds between one summer and the next, boys one day and halfway to being men the next. Hashirama’s only saving mercy was the sheer awkwardness of their bodies, knobby knees and long arms that always looked too skinny no matter how much muscle they packed on, typical adolescent shapes that looked just funny enough that he was able to tear his eyes away before Tobirama noticed him staring.

Or at least he hoped Tobirama hadn’t noticed. His friend had never bothered to address the fact that Hashirama continued to come back to him time and time again no matter how many years went by and he wondered sometimes if Tobirama simply took his every action to just be how all humans acted. It wasn’t like he had any other examples to base his judgment on.

In thankful silence Hashirama spent the summers of his growing years. From fifteen to sixteen and on through seventeen he tried to pretend he wasn’t falling in love with a creature that wasn’t even the same species as him, that he didn’t feel the same warmth in his chest when Tobirama innocently played with his hair as he did when he was allowed to run his hands down the ridges of the impressive horns growing from the dragon’s head. As much as he knew it was a terrible thing for his friend to be lonely he still thanked the gods that Tobirama had no one to explain to him the myriad clues in their odd friendship.

At seventeen and a half Hashirama lay with his body stretched out atop Tobirama’s head to watch the stars and finally admitted that he was doomed. His father could drop as many hints as he wanted about the Uzumaki and how advantageous it would be for their clans to be joined by marriage. Hashirama’s heart lay beneath the surface of the Naka River – and he was happy with that, really.

-

Twenty years old saw Hashirama with a heavy heart, proud to lead his clan but sad to bury his father. Itama and Kawarama held his hands as the priest said his words over the body but all three of them went their separate ways to mourn once the funeral was over. Hashirama left a wood clone in his room because he was the head of their people now and he would be needed, he had responsibilities that he couldn’t ignore, but his real self slid easily in to the forest to head for the only person he wanted to be with at the moment.

He stopped running only when his feet dipped in to the shallows, red eyes the size of dinner plates watching him with an understanding sort of sadness. When he crouched and slipped his fingers in to the current his friend crested the surface and under the pain he could feel the same awe filling him as it always did when he was treated to this sight.

Almost fully grown to his adult size, Tobirama was truly massive. His body was as thick around as the river itself and his length extended around the twists and turns until his tail was lost in the distance. The mechanics of how he managed to fit inside the river at all was always something that made Hashirama’s brain hurt when he started to think about it for too long. As much as he was used to strange things being possible with jutsus and seals there was just something about the word ‘magic’ that made his whole being shy away uncomfortably.

What he did understand, what had taken him an embarrassing number of years to figure out, was that Tobirama did not _live_ in the Naka River. Tobirama _was_ the Naka River. It was his spirit that brought forth the water from the mountains and blessed Hi no Kuni with his generous bounty, freely given, having lain dormant for hundreds of years until one little human boy stumbled in to his current and made him curious enough to reach for a physical form for the first time.

And Hashirama, in all his childish human arrogance, had once had the audacity to think it was Tobirama who belonged to him.

“I’m not really ready to lead the clan,” he whispered, his mind on the present more than the past. “Dunno if I ever would have been. Sometimes I wish you could come home with me, you know? I think you would do a lot better dealing with the council of elders than I will.”

Tobirama trilled and carefully lowered his massive head to nudge Hashirama gently in the chest.

“No, I’m fine. Just sad. And a little scared. But…and I don’t know if this makes me a terrible person…but maybe this could be a good thing? Madara is already the head of the Uchiha. If I can just get him to listen then maybe we can finally have peace between our clans and – I _know_ we could be great friends if he would just give it a chance!”

With a snort Tobirama shoved until Hashirama went tumbling backwards in to the shallows and then dove underneath the water, his innate connection with the river somehow making it possible for something of his size to not only fit below the surface where he should not have been able to but to then wrap himself around Hashirama’s form in possessive disapproval of the current topic.

He’d never liked it much when Hashirama spoke of his counterpart in the Uchiha clan. No matter how many times they went over the benefits of having peace between their two peoples it always seemed like the minute they began to speak of Uchiha Madara was when Tobirama reverted to a sulking child as he was doing now. Hashirama spluttered over his now soaking wet clothes, sitting up just to glare down at the dragon staring balefully back at him. When he tried to regain his feet he found his legs tangled up in thick scaly coils and stopped with an exasperated puff.

“Come on, Tobi,” he said. “I came out here because I wanted you to make me feel better, not because I wanted you to throw me around!”

Tobirama snorted under the water, sending bubbles rippling to the surface.

“Ugh.” Hashirama gave in to his fight without putting up any more of a fight. Even when the dragon got in to a snit like this he was still better company than anyone back home and Hashirama knew he would prefer to be with no one else right now.

Letting his body relax, he closed his eyes and dropped his head back until it met another patch of scales and fur. While he had been hoping to spend a bit of time with Tobirama and just talk the afternoon away to take his mind of things, he decided that this was good too, this was still better than dealing with all of the falsely sympathetic clan members coming to ‘pay their respects’ and trying to pretend they weren’t glad to see Butsuma gone. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to getting those memories back from his clone.

Eventually the soothing motion of Tobirama’s breathing and the warmth of his body in contrast to the cool water around them took a toll and Hashirama found himself drifting off to sleep. He kept his silence and dreamed about all the things he would do once he had achieved peace with the clan that had always been their biggest enemies. The people that called him a hopeless dreamer just didn’t understand. All he wanted was to save as many lives as possible, to build a future where he could keep his little brothers safe.

And to never again fear that someday he might come to the Naka River only to find the current running red with blood. He wanted to keep _all_ of his precious ones safe.

-

Building a village together with the Uchiha wasn’t something he had ever considered and Hashirama very nearly drowned everyone present in his tears when Madara was the one to suggest it. Having peace between their people was already amazing enough; when other clans grew interested and tentative missives began to arrive asking if they were willing to accept others in to this ground breaking venture he could hardly believe any of this was actually happening. It was all so much more than he had ever dared to dream for.

It was also much more dangerous than he had ever realized it would be. Peace was always hard won, he had already known that of course, but what he had not realized was that there were people out there who viewed peace as a threat. The larger their village grew the more they became targets for other factions seeking to destabilize them, to shatter their alliances before they could truly settle in. Each attempt enraged Madara, a fast and good friend just as Hashirama had known he would be. But for Hashirama they brought only sadness and the realization that not quite everyone shared his dreams of a brighter future.

For some a brighter future included the end of Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara, the so-called ringleaders of this detrimental peace that thumbed its nose at generations of death and tradition.

Chakra depleted and body crying out in protest against how little sleep he had gotten in the last several nights, Hashirama forced his feet to continue running as he wondered if there was a way to _beat_ some sense in to all the idiots who subscribed to that stupid way of thinking. Namely, the ones chasing them right now. Both he and Madara had massive chakra reserves but they were not bottomless pits and they could only go for so long before the only option left was to retreat to safer ground.

“You’re going the wrong direction!” Madara’s voice screeched beside him when Hashirama took a sharp left, dodging around a tree just in time for a rather violent raiton to decimate the wood instead of his spine.

“Almost there,” he panted. “Come on, almost there!”

“Where are you going!?”

Despite the protests Madara did trust him enough to follow. If they survived this Hashirama very much planned to shove that detail in Kawarama’s face; his youngest brother had never trusted Madara, refused to believe that he was sincere in his acceptance of peace.

Shouting echoed behind them, more than two dozen shinobi hot on their trail as they had been for the past few days. There had been three times that number when Hashirama accidentally stumbled upon their hidden camp and attacked in thoughtless panic when he realized they were gathering followers to make an attack on Konohagakure. Now the exhaustion in his bones almost had him seeing double and the men still pursuing them would be more than enough to take them both out in this condition.

Luckily for them he had an ace up his sleeve, one he’d never had to use before but had thought of many times.

“We just have to make it to the river,” he said breathlessly, checking over his shoulder and dodging so the three kunai aimed for his head sailed by harmlessly. Madara huffed and put on one last burst of speed.

“If we die I’m gonna kill you,” his friend growled.

Hashirama would have chuckled if he had the breath. When he tried for the same speed his muscles screamed in protest but he forced himself to go on, chasing after Madara’s back, bursting out of the tree line and praying for a miracle as they pounded across the open space.

Something heavy and sharp went singing passed his ear and Hashirama decided now was as good a time as any to pull the ace from his sleeve. Clear blue water sparkling before him like a beacon of safety, his eyes squeezed tightly as he drew in as much air as his burning, tired lungs could manage.

“Tobirama! _Tobirama_!”

Angry voices turned to terrified screams behind him as the Naka exploded upwards, the head of an angry river dragon shooting skyward only to bow towards the earth with vicious intent, his great maw opened in a roar that shook the very rocks beneath their feet. Razor teeth the length of a human forearm glinted in the sun when the beast screamed his rage. Never had any human in Hi no Kuni seen anything more terrible – or more beautiful.

Hashirama’s heart sang with glee and relief and so much love he could barely understand how it all stayed inside. With the last of his energy he threw himself at Madara’s back with a helpful shout of “Down!” just as Tobirama’s great body shot forward like an arrow from a bow. The two friends tumbled in the grass, scrambling to turn around the second they rolled to a stop, eyes riveted on the carnage behind them.

Fearsome, protective, driven to madness by the very idea of his only precious person in danger, Tobirama decimated the humans that dared to threaten Hashirama. His teeth pierced their armor with the ease of a hot knife through butter, rending their limbs from their bodies to be discarded in the grass like trash. Bones crunched unnoticed between his teeth. Long coils of his never-ending length whipped shinobi to and fro, crushing them or sending them flying in to trees for their spines to snap like twigs. Sharp claws ground their bodies in to the dirt and separated torsos from legs indiscriminately. The landscape shuddered beneath his weight and his temper both but still he raged on with blood dripping between his teeth.

And all the while he screamed, roaring and snarling so loudly that Madara clapped both hands over his ears, eyes wide with fear. Hashirama couldn’t help but smile. Though he’d never been rude enough to suggest it he had always wondered what Tobirama would look like in battle, how fearsome he would be using this form to lay waste to any threat that dared to approach him.

The reality was far from disappointing.

When the last of their pursuers hung lifeless from the massive claw pierced through his chest, at last Tobirama grew quiet. He shook the human away from him with a perfunctory move and whipped his massive head around to fix both eyes on the two humans prone in the grass. Madara squealed. Hashirama forced his tired body to sit up with an awed breathy sigh.

“That was _amazing_ ,” he said.

“Are you insane!?” Madara screeched. “What the hell is that thing!?”

“It’s just Tobirama. Hey,” he called to his friend, his precious dragon partner. “It’s alright now. They’re gone. Thank you, Tobirama. We were…we might not have made it without you.”

A loud snarl rippled through the air and Tobirama’s body unwound like a striking snake, one moment halfway across the field and the next his big nose huffing against Hashirama’s chest. Madara squealed again but the sound choked off disbelievingly when Hashirama threw his arms around what he could of the snout rubbing at his armor.

“Don’t worry, I’m not injured. Well, not too badly anyway.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth Hashirama winced, knowing he should now have said that. Tobirama gave vent to a rumbling huff that managed to sound exasperated even before his body began to glow, an entire river’s worth of scales and fur and flesh bursting in to light, fading away a moment later to leave his human form naked as he always was, wearing nothing but a frown upon his pouty pink lips.

Hashirama ignored the high pitched gurgling noises his mission partner was giving off in favor of chuckling quietly while swift hands dipped inside his clothing. It was hard not to squirm with pleasure even when Tobirama found the wounds and pressed on them to slow the already sluggish bleeding. Upon being faced with an expectant glare he jerked a thumb over his back at the pack he was carrying, his medical supplies tucked in to the same old pocket they always were. His friend worked quickly to get them but dropped them carelessly between their feet while he pulled Hashirama’s clothes open to get better access to the hurts he’d never liked seeing.

Balm had been applied and gauze was being unrolled when finally Madara got over his shock – or compartmentalized it more likely – well enough to stumble up on to shaking legs and demand to know what the hell was going on. He did stay back a few steps, Hashirama noticed. Which was a smart move considering the suspicious way Tobirama was eyeing him.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Hashirama insisted. “Tobirama is my friend. I’ve known him since I was little; he won’t hurt us.”

“I will not hurt _you_ ,” Tobirama rumbled under his breath.

“Tha–that thing was a _dragon_. And now he’s – for fuck’s sake, he’s naked!”

“Uh…yeah, I guess he is.” It had been so long since he’d stopped trying to get Tobirama to wear clothes that he hardly noticed anymore. Honestly, there was little point in the effort anyway. On the rare occasion he did wrestle the other in to one of his shirts for modesty’s sake it was shredded in the change back to his other form and the problem presented itself all over again the next time.

Madara braced himself, visibly gathering his courage and watching Tobirama’s every move, bravely holding that red gaze as he reached out one hand to Hashirama. “Come away from him.”

“Oh don’t be silly, Madara!” More words that Hashirama regretted the moment they passed his lips.

Tobirama’s lips peels back from his teeth, razor sharp even in this skin. In an instant his body language changed from protective to aggressive. His fingers clenched around the gauze he was still holding as he took a menacing step towards someone he had decided to hate long before they ever met. Madara’s entire body went stiff with involuntary fear, something he would later insist was entirely understandable considering the beast he knew lay hidden within the trim form stalking towards him with an ugly expression.

Seeing where this was going Hashirama spread his arms and leapt between them.

“No, Tobirama!” He meant only for his friend to stop and listen; he wasn’t prepared for the way Tobirama froze entirely to stare at him with such a look of betrayal it hurt him just to see it. “Just don’t hurt him, okay?”

Slowly retracting his arms until he had made himself as small and unassuming as possible, Tobirama’s face darkened again as he turned towards Madara, pinning him in place with a thundering look so twisted he nearly resembled his other form. Madara would forever deny that he trembled under that look until Hashirama side-stepped to put himself further between them.

“He’s my _friend_ ,” he said. Tobirama flinched like those words had been a physical blow.

“Ah. I understand.” With jerky motions he shoved the gauze in to Hashirama’s hands, narrowed eyes turning away to glare in to the distance. “I will respect your choice. You may have _him_ bandage your wounds, then.”

Completely ignoring Hashirama’s cries to stop, he stepped back and leapt for the river, disappearing under the water as a human and surfacing as dragon that gave vent to a piercing mournful sound Hashirama had heard only once before. It was a sound filled with inexplicable loss. A moment later he was skimming away and it seemed as though it took forever for the entire length of his body to twist around the bend out of sight. Hashirama felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes long before then.

In all the years they had known each other he had never been rejected in such a manner. Yet even as he thought so he realized that, in Tobirama’s eyes, it was he that rejected his friend first. Tobirama had no one else and he knew that. He knew very well that his friend had never had to share before, had no concept of how to, and Hashirama finally realized why he had seemed so threatened by the very mention of Madara’s name even before they made peace with each other.

“Oh Tobirama,” he whispered to the turbulent river, “I could never replace you.”

-

The three weeks they spent apart after that incident were agonizing. Hashirama’s twenty-fourth birthday came and passed but he found little joy in the celebration when he couldn’t spend it with the one he most wanted to. Of course he had been back to the river several times but it seemed he had hurt his friend much more deeply than he understood, returning to the fledgling village still under construction with a heavy heart each time.

When Itama came to him full of excitement to tell him that all the different clans had been talking of making him the leader of their village Hashirama felt the walls closing in and knew he had to go. Dreams and desires were like ash on his tongue without the surety that Tobirama would be there to share them with him, even if only for a few stolen hours at a time.

He slipped away the moment he could, afternoon sun hot and heavy in the sky, sweat dripping down his back to soak through his shirt before he made it to the place where it felt as though his entire life had begun. When he was younger the water here in the shallowest part of the river had come up to his knees and made him stumble when he walked. Now it swirled around his ankles, his towering body bowed with grief, not even covering his thighs when he carefully lowered himself to sit back against the rocks leading up the northern bank. Not a thought was given to whether he might be ruining the fine new clothing the other clans had been gifting him recently, clothing that he now realized was supposed to be fitting of a village leader.

It took more than an hour of patience before finally Hashirama looked down to see two spots of ruby watching him from just beneath the surface. That no face popped up to playfully coat him with water was a painful sign of the distance between them at the moment. Hashirama sighed despondently and dipped his fingers in to the current, relieved when that precious face didn’t skitter away but allowed him to reach down and stroke the scales on his nose.

Even knowing there wasn’t much he could say to make the hurt go away he still felt compelled to say something. If only because he couldn’t stand this silence.

“I miss you,” he whispered. The spirit of the river itself, Tobirama would hear him no matter how deep he lurked. “I wish I knew what to say so you would believe me that I would never – could never – put anyone above you. Just because I have other friends too doesn’t mean you’re not still my favorite. You still _belong_ to me.”

Trailing off with a sad little whimper, Hashirama spread his hand out across the top of Tobirama’s snout. His dreams were still filled every night with the incredible sight of seeing a dragon go to war and knowing it was in his honor. And although he was well aware that he hadn’t actually done anything wrong he still felt terrible for the way he had ruined everything afterwards by stepping between Madara and the long teeth headed for his jugular. If it had been anyone else behaving like that he would have said–

His hand froze, eyes blowing out wide, and Hashirama whipped his head down to stare at the twin disks of red carefully watching him.

“You were jealous,” he said with wonder choking his lungs.

It made sense. It made so much more sense when he looked at it from that perspective. Hashirama’s heart fluttered nervously in his chest as he scrambled around on to his knees, both hands beneath the water to hold the beloved face hiding just beneath the current.

“But you don’t _need_ to be jealous! Why would you ever be jealous? I – when I said that you belonged to me, of course I meant that I belonged to you too!” Tobirama’s form shuddered and a familiar white glow covered him, running along the river as far as the eye could see. “Wait! No don’t go! Please don’t leave!”

Hashirama moved without thinking. In a desperate bid to hold on to someone no human was ever meant to cage he threw his body forward, plunging beneath the deeper waters and stretching out blindly for any part of his friend he could reach. Something hard and cool met his fingers just before the transformation took effect and the coils of a dragon were gone. Hashirama hung suspended for a moment, not opening his eyes yet because the river water hurt his eyes and there was little point in knowing where the other had disappeared to so quickly if he wouldn’t be able to reach there in time. Even as a human Tobirama had a way of cutting through the current when they swam together.

Fingers brushed his cheek and Hashirama’s eyes popped open and he was there. Tobirama was there. Uncaring for the way the river filled his mouth, Hashirama could do nothing but smile wider than he ever had before as he curled his fingers around that beautiful neck and pulled their bodies together. If Tobirama made a sound his human ears could not hear it, submerged as they were, but that was a small point to mourn when their lips met for the first time, each of them clutching desperately at the other while they drifted in to deeper waters.

Being human, Hashirama began to run out of oxygen long before he was ready to part. He wanted to stay like this forever and never stop kissing the one he had given his life to so many years ago. A whimper slipped out, precious bubbles of air escaping and rising to the surface, but Hashirama only wound his arms tighter around his friend and determinedly held him as close as possible.

It fell to Tobirama to push for the surface. By the time they broke through Hashirama was seeing black spots in his vision and his lungs were burning, gasping drunkenly for air as soon as it was available even as his limbs refused to let go of the prize he had finally _finally_ won.

“You are always so _reckless_ ,” Tobirama scolded him. Hashirama wheezed in place of a laugh.

“I love you,” he gasped in return. “Tobirama, I love you so much, I always have, I could never ever love anyone but you.”

His friend trilled with joy, a rumbling noise that always sounded a little strange when it came from a human throat. Then he found himself backed up against the southern bank with a pale body, naked and wet, pressing close to his front. Tobirama’s eyes were dark and fierce as them pinned him in place and Hashirama could only think of how delicious he was like this, dominant and alpha.

“No one but me,” the dragon snarled. Then he bent his head and Hashirama was glad to breathe through his nose this time while he happily let himself be devoured.

For someone who obviously had zero experience with this sort of thing Tobirama was a damn good kisser. His lips were soft and insistent, using just the right amount of pressure to drag involuntary noises from Hashirama’s heaving chest, pausing every so often to nip and lick and growling with possessive pride over every sound he earned. It was the single most overwhelming experience of Hashirama’s life and all he could do was try his best to give as good as he got. Whether or not he succeeded he didn’t know but he pacified himself with the assurance that he could always try again.

And again and again and again, every day for the rest of his life, as often as they had the chance.

“Tobirama,” he whispered, breathless now more from the thigh slipping between his legs than from anything else. “My Tobirama. Stay with me – always, stay with me always, okay?”

“Yes,” was all Tobirama said in return. His lips went back to their purpose almost before the single syllable had left him and Hashirama gave himself over to the pleasure with no more talking. No words could ever possibly do justice to the sheer joy filling him and so he didn’t bother to try, falling in to their embrace the way he had fallen in to love.

Easily. Happily. All at once and with no regrets.

 

-

 

Sixty seemed like a good age to retire. Hashirama skimmed his hands over the grass and watched the blades tickle the wrinkles in his skin with a smile. It was a never ending source of amusement hearing Madara’s confused rants on how his face could remain so ageless while his hands, of all things, grew weary and creased. With as many mountains worth of paperwork as he had completed in his time under the hat, Hashirama supposed he had earned a few wrinkles between his fingers.

Now it was time to pick his successor and, although he knew who he wished he could give it to, his co-leader in all but name, Madara had begun to show signs of aging long before Hashirama had. The decision was one that had been hanging over his head since the winter solstice and even now in the heart of summer he still hadn’t made a decision. How he wished someone else would simply step up and make it for him.

Pale fingers brushed against his own and Hashirama’s smile widened. Tobirama, of course, remained as young and fresh as the river he was bound to.

“Itama finally gave in and moved away to live with that Uzumaki woman of his,” Hashirama murmured without turning. “About time, too. He’s only kept her stringing along for two full decades! But…the house feels empty without him. Both of my brothers have left me all alone and the village needs a younger man to watch over them. I’m very tired, love.”

“You’ve earned a rest,” Tobirama agreed. His partner slipped down to the ground behind him and pressed against his back.

There had been times when Hashirama considered asking Tobirama to come to the village but he had never once given voice to the idea. Instead he had designed his village to straddle the precious waters of the Naka River and made his journey every day to a certain spot that belonged only to them. Even now that his knees had begun to creak there was nothing that would stop him from coming here, not even if he had to crawl the whole way with one arm and one leg. Tobirama was a siren call, wild and untamable but always waiting with arms wide open, words of praise of his lips so that Hashirama never doubted that his partner thought he was beautiful just the way he was.

“Being alone is a strange thing. I’ve been starting to think lately that it would be easiest if I simply slipped away and never returned. What do you think, love? It’s been a while since I camped on the banks. Might be a nice way to spend my last years.” Hashirama chuckled, whimsical, then he peered curiously over one shoulder when Tobirama snorted.

“Last years, indeed,” his partner said.

“What? What did I say?”

Tobirama leaned to one side so they could look in to each other’s eyes, his smile amused but his gaze gentle and loving. “You belong to me, you know. What makes you think I’m through with you yet?”

It took hours of conversation for Hashirama to understand, hours more for him to agree, but in the end it was with a light heart that he stood and allowed himself to be led towards the water. One last glance back to the village that had once been his biggest aspiration, then Hashirama turned towards the one who had always been his wildest dream, his greatest treasure.

“Home?” he said softly.

“You told me always,” Tobirama whisper. “I’ve been waiting.”

When he fell back in to the water Hashirama let himself be pulled along, feeling the current close over him and his body weight send them down. Then Tobirama began to glow and Hashirama held tight. He closed his eyes, feeling nothing more than content when the light encased him as well.

Always and forever; that sounded good to him.


End file.
